


Bitter

by ddagent



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Food Critic, Married Couple, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28959453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: Leo Hill and Jewel Storm are rival food critics in Westeros; constantly trying to one-up the other. They are also Jaime Lannister and Brienne Tarth; happily married and madly in love.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 47
Kudos: 205





	Bitter

**Author's Note:**

> The amazing wildlingoftarth prompted: "Mr & Mrs Smith AU - rival spies/assassins who are married but don't know that the other spy/assassin who's always getting in their way is their spouse." 
> 
> Now, this is probably the farthest thing you imagined when you prompted this. But I realised today that Mr and Mrs Smith is basically just a reverse You’ve Got Mail and I could write a thousand and one iterations of each. So, I really hope you enjoy this.

Jaime Lannister ran the last few metres to his apartment building, swiped his key card at the door, and practically threw himself inside. Finally in the warm, Jaime tugged down his hood and brushed the heavy snow out of his hair and beard. This winter was proving to be the worst – and longest – on record. The Westerosi government had issued a lockdown a few weeks ago to keep most of its citizens inside and off the streets. They were to leave their homes for emergencies only. 

In Jaime’s case, that emergency was chicken soup. 

Leaving wet footprints across the lobby, Jaime headed for the lift and pressed the button for floor seven. The smell of chicken soup wafted up from the container; the scent of the vegetables earthy and unpleasant. He doubted the chicken would taste any better – inside the deli, the pot looked like it had been sitting for quite some time. But it was close by, and food critics couldn’t _always_ order in. 

Especially if you were the most hated anonymous food critic in Westeros. 

Jaime, aka _Leo Hill, the man with the golden taste buds_ , was known throughout Westeros as someone who could make or break a restaurant, food truck, or even a roadside café. His first victim had been his father’s latest venture; a hideously overpriced bistro that had attracted its clientele for the status rather than the cuisine. It had remained open for six months; Leo Hill’s scathing review the first and hardest nail in its coffin. That review was also why no one in his family – not even his wife – really knew what he did for a living. Tywin Lannister did not forgive. He certainly did not forget.

So, while his wife, Brienne, thought he worked for the Westeros Tourism Board, Jaime critiqued restaurants up and down the country. His ‘job’ gave him excellent cover for their constant travelling, and Brienne’s work in IT meant she could often join him. If it wasn’t for this damn winter, they would be enjoying the delicacies of Dorne right about now. The only consolation is that his rival, Jewel Storm, would be equally grounded.

“Fucking _Storm._ ”

Jewel Storm had begun posting three years ago. An anonymous gourmet chef, her views were detailed, technical, and often a direct critique of his opinion. She was an advocate of sustainable farming, cared little for the dessert menu at restaurants (where, for Jaime, it was the first thing he looked for), and was the _worst person in the entire world._ Jaime had spent many an hour away from his beloved wife arguing with Storm in the comments section of their blogs. He clutched the carrier bag containing the soup even tighter as he thought about his dwindling followers. _Fuck_ he hated that woman.

 _Ding._ Thankfully, before Jaime could launch into a rant in the empty lift, it reached his floor. He stepped out, dug in his right pocket for his keys, and hoped Brienne hadn’t floundered too badly in his absence. However, when he finally got the front door open, he caught his sick wife padding across the living room to grab her laptop. “ _Busted_.”

“You’re back early.” 

“And you should be in bed.” Jaime dropped the soup containers on the table next to the front door and shucked off his damp coat. After draping it across the radiator, he crossed over to Brienne and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. Clammy and warm. “Seriously, Brienne, you should be in bed.”

“I prefer it when you say that under different circumstances.”

“So do I!” He grinned before placing a cool kiss to her temperature-ridden forehead. “Go back to bed, love. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

His wife scowled but did as she was told. This long winter had not been kind to anyone, and Brienne had caught something nasty while doing some shopping for their elderly neighbour. But trying to keep Brienne in bed unless they were both naked was a job in and of itself. His beloved did _not_ like to sit still. Jaime, however, liked to dote on Brienne as much as possible. So, he made her a cup of tea, found some painkillers, and brought her in a bowl of the chicken soup with fresh bread. 

Propped up against the pillows, his red-nosed wife offered him a warm smile. “You didn’t have to do all this, Jaime.”

“Of course, I did. I’m your husband,” he said, planting another kiss atop her forehead. “It’s in the job description. Here: I picked you up some soup.”

“Mmmm. Looks good.” 

“It does.” It did not. The chicken looked dry, even swimming in the grey broth, and the chunks of vegetable were uneven and unappealing. “Hopefully it tastes as good as it looks.”

“I’m sure it will.” 

Jaime felt truly terrible about inflicting the soup upon his poor wife, but he needed _something_ to review. Brienne had, in fact, repeatedly pointed out the lack of soup or broth in their kitchen cupboards. While she undoubtedly would enjoy something better, ripping apart restaurants allowed them to keep food in those empty cupboards. So, after leaving another lingering kiss to his wife’s forehead, Jaime pulled away with the intention of trying that gods-awful soup for himself. “I need to catch up on some work. Are you alright for a while?”

Brienne nodded. “I’ll be fine. Could you–could you grab me my laptop so I can watch something on Webflix?” 

“Of course.” 

Padding into the kitchen, Jaime found the laptop Brienne had so desperately wanted earlier. Knowing his wife, she had most likely wanted to get some work done while he was out of the house. Most likely wanted to get some done _now_ while he was actually _in_ the house. Shaking his head, Jaime opened her laptop, entered her password ( _Oathkeeper_ ), and decided to install an extension that would block any work site. Brienne needed to _rest_ , not _work_ dammit. 

He had every intention of just installing the extension and giving Brienne the laptop. He had no desire to snoop; no reason to suspect. He _did,_ however, notice that Brienne had bookmarked Jewel Storm’s blog. “Well, _fuck,_ Brienne; I thought you had better taste.” Ironic, considering his beloved cared little about food and couldn’t boil an egg to save her life. “Maybe I’ll bookmark Leo Hill for you. Show you what a _real_ food critic looks like.” 

Before he did that, Jaime clicked on Jewel’s blog to see whether the wench had updated recently. He noticed two things: one, that she hadn’t updated since posting a review about a new Dothraki takeout place two hours before he had, and two, that Brienne was logged into the blog. She could comment. She could edit. _She could post._

 _“_ Brienne—” Jaime began before he could stop himself. “—why do you have access to Jewel Storm’s blog?”

A spoon clattered, followed by a painfully long pause. “Who?”

Carrying her laptop back into their bedroom, Jaime stared accusingly at his wife while showing her the screen. “Jewel Storm. Food critic. You have access to her blog.”

Brienne ran a hand through damp hair. “Do I? I–I don’t know, Jaime. Listen, I feel like death. Can we do whatever this is another time?” He deflated. His wife, _who he loved,_ was sick. He didn’t even know what he was— “Jaime, why do you have a tab open to Leo Hill?” 

They stared at each other for a long moment. Jaime Lannister and Brienne Tarth. Happily married for two years after meeting in a Riverlands restaurant where they both had had food poisoning and spent the evening flirting on the linoleum floor of the customer toilets. Leo Hill and Jewel Storm. Who always seemed to review the same places within hours of each other, and then spent the next few days arguing with each other in the comments section. 

It was Brienne who burst into laughter first. “Of all the people I could have married.”

“Do you still lo—”

“—of _course,_ you idiot!” Brienne said; the force of her proclamation punctuated with a sneeze. “You’re more than your job, and so am I.” She then paused. “Do–do you?”

Jaime beamed. “Always.”

“ _Good_. Then could you please get this soup out of here? It’s disgusting and not worth the review.” 

“Agreed. Neither of us should be eating that.”

Jaime put Brienne’s laptop on the nearby dresser; took the tray from Brienne’s lap and put it by the door. He then crawled into bed beside his wife and grinned as she rested her head atop his shoulder. His fingers toyed with the limp tendrils of her hair; her hand resting atop his heart. It really was funny the longer he thought about it. All that time he’d spent away from his wife arguing with Jewel over a review had been time spent with her after all.

“You know, I was convinced you were hacking my emails.”

Brienne snorted. “I thought someone was tailing poor Podrick.” She wet her dry lips. “You know, I would never tell Leo this, but I can tell you, Jaime, that you have an excellent way with words. I’ve always envied how you can paint a picture.”

“Thank you. And I would _never_ tell Jewel this, not in a million years, but I do think it’s important that my wife knows how technically proficient she is and that precision has cost me so many followers.” He squeezed her shoulder. “It’s even more impressive now that I realise Jewel Storm can’t actually cook.”

“I can _too_ cook!” Brienne whined. “You know the start-up I was working at in the Reach?” Jaime nodded. “It was actually a restaurant. I was really excelling, getting a lot of great reviews, but the head chef forced me out. Blackballed me when I moved to King’s Landing so I couldn’t get another job. It’s why I’ve always stayed anonymous.”

“Oh, Brienne.” Jaime made a mental note to find out this man’s name and ruin his entire business. “I get it. My first review was for a restaurant owned by Father.”

Brienne’s forehead creased. “He still talks about that! Gods, no wonder you’ve kept this all secret.”

“Father refused to fund Tyrion’s restaurant; said it was a pipe dream, and it wouldn’t last six months. So, I made sure Father’s didn’t, either. And then my blog took off, and I got really good at it, so I kept it going. I can also cook, by the way.”

“Then we spend far too much money on takeout.”

“Yeah, we should probably cook for real at some point. Although I’m a much better baker than I am a cook.”

Brienne beamed. “Well, that’s good, because I’m a much better cook than I am a baker.” 

Jaime wrapped his arm around Brienne’s shoulders and pulled her into his chest. He had always dreaded the conversation about telling Brienne what he _actually_ did for a living, but this had gone much better than expected. Although, knowing them, they would be teasing each other about it for years. Still, for now, they were content. “How about I throw that soup out, make us a batch of brownies, and we can spend all day in bed together. Pyjamas on, though.”

“I think I can settle for that.” 

The soup was tossed out; Jaime managing to scrounge enough in their meagre kitchen cupboards to make a pan of chocolate fudge brownies for his sick wife. Then, after getting in his sword-patterned pyjamas and booting up Brienne’s laptop, they settled in to watch something distracting on Webflix. A few days later, Leo Hill’s blog announced it would focus more on desserts, bakeries, and confectionery chains. Jewel Storm continued to focus on restaurants but also offered cooking tips and support to women in the industry.

The only time Leo Hill and Jewel Storm ever posted a similar review was when they _really_ couldn’t agree on something and felt honour-bound to share their opinion with their followers. Only now they didn’t fight it out in the comment section. 


End file.
